the International Innovation
Award for its services, the fi rst
time it was given outside the
United States.
Wu, who ended his formal
education as a primary school
student in grade three, was one
of the library’s hundreds of thou-
sands of registered members
at the time of the international
accolade.
At the start he was barely liter-
ate, having to look up characters
in a dictionary to understand
newspapers, fi ction and history
books, he said. He eventually
fi nished reading ancient classics
such as A Dream of Red Man-
sions and Record of States in the
Eastern Zhou Dynasty, two of his
favorites books.
Gradually, his vocabulary grew,
and after 12 years he is a quick
reader, devouring at least six
books a month.
In most of his years in Dong-
guan, adhering to his thrifty ways,
Wu, unlike hundreds of millions of
other Chinese, did not return to
his hometown for Spring Festival.
Asked if he was lonely, Wu
blushed after downing half a cup
of his curative liquor.
“My son’s all I’ve got. I earn
money for him or I die. Forget
about loneliness; it’s no big deal.
Of course there’s meifeng jiajie
beisiqin (a poetic line referring to
missing one’s family, especially
during festivals). But no matter
how hard life is, I just need to get
on with it so I can save money for
my son.”
Then, as his eyes watered up,
Wu added: “After all, books teach
me that loneliness is my fate.”
In January last year Wu
unusually went back home for
the Spring Festival. He did not
return until June because of the
COVID-19 lockdown. On June
24, aware that he might never
return to Dongguan, went to the
library to return his 12-year-old
library card and get his 100 yuan
security deposit back.
When Wu went to the recep-
tion desk his long-relationship
with the library, its books and its
staff loomed large in his mind.
Taking out the card and rubbing it
against his shirt, he thought again
about what he was about to do.
One hour passed before he fi nally
made his decision.
A librarian, Wang Yanjun, sens-
ing his hesitancy as she took care
of the paper work, took out the
library’s comments book and
asked Wu to leave a comment.
“I’ve worked in Dongguan for
17 years, and been reading at this
library for 12 years,” he wrote.
“Books enlighten people. Due to
the COVID-19 pandemic, a lot of
factories have closed, migrant
workers cannot fi nd jobs, and
we choose to go back to our
hometowns. Thinking about all
my years in Dongguan, the best
place for me has been the library.
As much I want to stay, I cannot,
but I will never forget you, Dong-
guan Library.”
Another librarian took a photo
of the comment and posted it on-
line, and before long it was doing
the rounds of the internet.
“Before long many more
people were using the library and
applying for membership,” Wang
said.
In October he returned to
his hometown and found that
although his granddaughters
wanted to read books, there was
no book available. So he cashed
in a 6,000 yuan book coupon he
had received and mailed all the
books.
“My goal is to build a small li-
brary for my hometown,” he said.Additional information is on fi le with the Department of Justice, Washington, D.C.
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LEFT: The comments Wu Guichun left at Dongguan Library that moved millions of
people online. RIGHT: People read in Dongguan Library.